


I'm not on drugs, I'm just in love

by Annerb



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, POV Outsider, Ridiculousness, Swearing, all the tropes all at once, background canon relationships, gift exchange fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21904693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annerb/pseuds/Annerb
Summary: Wherein Ron is an irredeemable sap, Harry isn’t much better, and Bill is so Over It all (but secretly pleased). Or how Ron’s stag do goes the way most things do when Harry Potter is involved—a quick spiral into violence and heartwarming disaster.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 47
Kudos: 748





	I'm not on drugs, I'm just in love

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to runawaymarbles for the quick beta (and the awesome ideas for st Mungo posters). Thanks also to Dusk for hosting the Incognito Elf Exchange! This was written for IsidarMithrim.

Bill smiles as George goads Ron into taking another shot. A nearby table of total strangers chants encouragement, fists banging rhythmically on the table.

Ron lifts his drink to his lips, neck arching back as he pours the smoking liquid into his mouth in one go. He tumbles over, smoke pouring out of his ears as he thrusts the empty glass triumphantly into the air to the loud approval of the pub. George tries to catch him, but is no better off. They collapse in a heap against the padded bench behind them.

“She’s gonna marry me,” Ron says in the half-awed, half-proud way he’s been doing since his fourth round of drinks.

“Yes, mate, we know,” George slurs back. “Has someone checked to make sure she isn’t suffering shell-shock? Having a mental breakdown? Is really a Death Eater downin’ polyjuice?”

Sadly, Ron doesn’t get as worked up as he’s been known to, instead just shaking his head and looking downright moony. “She loves me,” he says, smiling blissfully at them all.

“Well,” Bill says, “there’s no accounting for taste.”

Charlie lets out a hoarse shout of laughter, smacking Ron on the shoulder and nearly sending him face first into the table. Percy just slumps further down in his seat and nods repeatedly as if he has completely lost track of the conversation but still wants to look like he’s listening. 

Considering how dangerous things were at the time, there hadn’t been a stag night when Bill got married. His brothers all seem more than happy to be making up for it. Though Bill would be lying if he said he’d expected to see their youngest brother become the second one of them to walk down the aisle.

Fortunately not tomorrow though, all of them having decided that incurring the wrath of Hermione Granger _and_ Molly Weasley would be too much for the average wizard to survive. So here they are a full week before the blessed event, responsibly helping send Ron off in style.

Doubly good because he probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow, the rate they’re going.

“To all the women you’ll never get a leg over,” Bill says solemnly, raising his glass in salute.

George cackles. “Such a disappointment. I mean, you’re a fucking war hero. And you’re gonna marry the first girl you spoke to that wasn’t Ginny.”

But Ron isn’t really paying attention, brushing George’s hand away as he squints towards the bar. “What’s taking Harry so long?”

They’d sent him up for another round a while back, but Bill wasn’t paying much attention to how much time has passed. He turns, craning his neck around to locate Harry.

“There he—” Bill starts to say, only to break off.

It quickly becomes obvious why there’s been a delay—a blond, leggy witch currently cutting off his escape route. It’s hardly the first time someone has tried to get a piece of the Chosen One, much to Harry’s continual annoyance. 

“He’s probably trying to find a nice way brush her off, the stupid git,” George says. Only then Harry reaches out for the witch, his hand clearly on her bum as he draws her closer. She’s standing between his legs now as he sits perched on a barstool.

“That little wanker,” Charlie growls, pushing to his feet and nearly toppling the table.

Only Charlie doesn’t know Harry quite so well as the rest of them, particularly if he can even entertain the notion of Harry being a lothario, let alone a cheater. No, Bill thinks there must be something more going on here, the same instinct that has kept him alive through many a sticky situation causing his buzzed lethargy to dissipate.

Ron is so deeply in his cups that he charges towards the bar, chuntering under his breath as he goes. He careens into various people, probably saved from getting cursed by the sparkly sash they’d bullied him into wearing. _Last Night of Freedom_. _Soon to be Mr. Granger_ , George has added to the back at some point.

Bill pushes to his feet, quickly catching up to Ron and leading him across the pub, aware that the rest of his brothers are right behind him.

“Harry,” Bill says, slapping a hand on his shoulder and wrenching him back from the witch he looks _very_ close to kissing. “What are you doing?”

Harry shakes him off, not even taking his attention from the witch. “What does it bloody look like?” He doesn’t sound drunk so much as belligerent.

The witch giggles, her fingers playing with the front of Harry’s shirt, popping open the topmost button. Harry grins back at her as her hand spreads across his chest. 

“I think Ginny would have something to say about this, you prat,” George says, shouldering his way closer.

“Ginny?” Harry echoes.

Bill is alarmed to see that he looks confused, like the word should mean something to him, but he can’t quite place the name of his girlfriend of many years. For a moment he looks a little lost.

The witch slides her hand up his neck. “Harry,” she says, lips pouting as she leans closer to his face. “These blokes are bothering me. Make them go away.”

Harry’s confusion clears, his expression hardening. “You heard her. Shove off.”

Bill glances back at Percy. He gestures to the nearby table holding a collection of Ron and Harry’s auror friends. “Get the most sober of them over here,” he says quietly. 

Percy nods, disappearing into the crowd.

“Okay, Harry,” Bill says. “Clearly you’ve had enough. Hop off, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow at him, fingers digging into Harry’s shoulder.

It’s Harry who pulls his wand.

Everything goes to hell pretty quickly from there.

* * *

“What happened?” Ginny demands as she slams into St Mungo’s waiting room.

Bill lifts the cold compress from the throbbing ache of his cheek. “Just a little altercation,” he says.

Hermione is only a few steps behind, crossing over to Ron. “I thought if anyone was going to end up in hospital, it would be Ron.”

Ron grins up at her, one arm thrown over George’s shoulder. “Harry always does like to steal my thunder.”

“Where is he?” Ginny asks.

Hermione looks closer at Bill. “And what happened to you?” 

“Harry took a swing at him,” George cackles. “Got him good and proper.” 

“It’s nothing,” Bill says, trying to ignore the swelling around his eye. Probably much safer than what might have happened if the other junior aurors hadn’t managed to get Harry’s wand away from him.

“ _Harry_ did?” Ginny says, eyes wide. “I repeat— _What the hell happened_?”

“Come on,” Bill says, leading her back to the room they’re holding Harry in. Everyone else trails in behind.

They’ve given him a private room. Normally Bill would assume that was in deference to his fame, but tonight it’s more likely intended to protect the other patients from him. Harry lies mercifully unconscious on a bed in the middle of the space, arms restrained for good measure.

“Is he pissed?” Ginny asks.

Bill shakes his head. “Stunned.”

She looks around at her brothers in alarm. “What? Why?”

“So he’d stop trying to punch us, clearly,” Charlie says, rubbing at the back of his head. “And hexing us.” 

Poor Charlie had fallen like a plank when Harry got him with a particularly impressive immobilization charm.

“He’s been dosed,” Bill explains, not missing that Ginny looks close to cursing people herself. “Love potion more than likely.”

Ginny’s expression hardens all at once. “Love potion?”

Bill winces, touching his throbbing cheek. “A pretty bloody strong one from the look of it.”

Ron snickers, still well into his cups enough to find the entire thing hilarious. Then again, he’d managed to keep clear of any hexes or fists, so of course he bloody finds it amusing.

Ginny rounds on him. “It isn’t funny,” she snaps. 

Ron is well past any sense of self-preservation, rolling his eyes at her. “Merlin, Gin. Didn’t think you’d be missish about this. It’s just a love potion. Not like any of it was real.”

“And you think that will matter to Harry?”

Ron brushes it off. “Nothing happened. He didn’t even kiss her!”

Ginny curses under her breath. “This isn’t some harmless prank, Ron. Love potions aren’t any different than Imperio. You are removing a person’s will, a person’s ability to say what happens to their body, but also their emotions. You, of all people, should understand that.”

This seems to sober him up at bit, but he still turns to George as if for support.

“Don’t look at me. We stopped selling love potions years ago. After what happened to you.”

“We’ll go sober up little Ronnie,” Charlie says, no doubt reading that Ginny is livid and looking for an easy target.

Hermione squeezes Ginny’s arm in comfort before following after her sot of a fiancé.

Soon after George takes a very green-looking Percy off to the loo, no doubt to heave up the evening’s rounds. It leaves Bill alone with Ginny and the bustling mediwitches.

“How did this happen?” Ginny asks.

Bill shrugs. “Not sure yet. We collected all the drinks. They got taken off to the Auror Department. They got the witch too. I think they’re questioning her.”

“Good,” Ginny nearly growls.

“For now we wait. And hope he stays bloody unconscious.” Almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, of course Harry starts to stir, the stubborn bloody prick.

“He’s coming around,” Ginny says, walking towards the bed.

Bill grabs Ginny’s arm. “No, wait.”

A mediwitch leans over Harry, looking less than pleased as his eyes start to flutter open. “How is he possibly shrugging another off? We can only risk stunning him so many times. We could cause permanent damage.”

“They’ve already stunned him four times just to keep him calm,” Bill explains to Ginny.

She frowns. “And they aren’t working?”

“Apparently not. Thick-hided bastard.”

From the bed, Harry lets out a low groan, arms restlessly pulling against the restraints.

“I’ll need to find a healer,” the mediwitch says. “See if there is another way…”

“Let me try something,” Ginny says, knocking Bill’s hand off her arm. 

Bill starts to protest, but she ignores him, cautiously walking up to the bed.

“Harry?” she asks.

Bill moves closer as well, standing on the other side of the bed and raising his wand, ready to stun him if he has to in order to keep Ginny safe. Harry, if he were in his right mind, would no doubt be the first to agree. He can vaguely hear the mediwitch sending a guard off to get a healer.

Harry’s eyes blink slowly as if trying to bring Ginny into focus. Then they narrow, his entire body tensing in a way that has Bill’s instincts flaring, the visceral recognition of a dangerous predator.

“Ginny,” Bill warns.

She ignores him, stepping right up to the edge of the bed, Harry glaring up at her, expression completely stony.

“Harry,” Ginny murmurs, lifting her hand towards him.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he growls, voice so deeply menacing as to be unrecognizable.

Bill knows Harry, can’t help but still see him as a kid most of the time, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid enough to underestimate him. This is the man that single-handedly took on Voldemort at the age of seventeen, after all, and he’s only become more powerful and well-trained since then. It was easy to forget most days, but here, his jaw clenched and his arms straining against the restraints, Bill feels a real fission of fear.

He wants nothing more than to drag Ginny back away from him.

Ginny has stopped, but doesn’t step away. “You know who I am, Harry,” she says, voice quiet and calm. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She reaches her hand out.

Harry jerks his head back away from her, struggling against the restraints with renewed vigor, like he’ll do anything to keep her from touching him. They creak and groan alarmingly, but right before Bill decides to sod it all and stun him, her fingers make contact with Harry’s cheek.

He tries to pull away, but Ginny stubbornly follows. “Harry.”

He closes his eyes, breathing heavily out through his nose. His hands clench, the restraints creaking ominously again, but then he’s whispering, “Ginny?”

“Yeah,” she says, palm pressing flat against his cheek. “I’m here.”

None of the tension leaves his body, but his face turns into her wrist, like he’s breathing her in.

“Harry?”

“God,” he says, voice trembling. “I can’t…” His body contracts, head pulling down as his hands lift, coming to an abrupt stop as they run out of slack, like he’s desperate to claw something out of his head.

“Shhh,” Ginny says, pressing his hand back down against the sheets. “It’s okay.”

“What’s happening?”

“Love potion,” she says.

“What?” he asks, clearly panicked as he looks around the room like he might still be under attack.

“It’s okay,” she says, voice soothing. 

“No, it’s not! I keep thinking… She…” He shakes his head, looking back down at his chest like his body is wracked with cramps.

“Look at me.”

He doesn’t. “I can’t stop it,” he says, voice rough. “It won’t—”

“Look at me.” Ginny takes his chin between her fingers, forcing his face up to hers. “Harry. It’s going to be okay. This is shitty and terrible, but you didn’t do anything, and we won’t _let_ you do anything, and we will get this sorted. Do you hear me?”

“I want her out of my head,” he grinds out.

Ginny’s expression softens. “I know, love. I know.”

He spends a moment just looking at her face. “Could you just…talk to me?”

Before Bill can tell her what a stupid idea it is, she’s lifting her hip up on the edge of the bed, settling so she’s sitting up next to him between his arm and his chest. “Of course. What would you like to hear? My daring Quidditch exploits?”

He lets out a shaky breath. “About…us.”

She settles against his chest, hand still splayed on his neck like she’s trying to maximize skin contact. “You mean like that time you kissed me in front of the entire common room like the dramatic idiot you are? Or the time you snuck me out of the Burrow in the middle of the night and halfway across the property just to tell me you loved me for the first time?”

Harry’s lips twitch, half pain, half amusement. “Yes, like that.”

“Well then,” she says, “how about…” She lifts her chin, her voice lowering to a whisper as she speaks into his ear.

Bill doesn’t have any idea what she’s saying to him, but to judge from the flush working its way up Harry’s neck, he really doesn’t really want to. It seems to do the trick though, whatever inappropriate shit she’s saying to him, Harry’s body gradually calming, the restraints falling slack.

At least until Harry is abruptly shifting, lunging towards Ginny. Bill lifts his wand, but before he can cast a spell, Harry kisses Ginny, his hand slipping under the back of her shirt. Clearly this is a different type of attack, and just as Bill is thinking he’s going to have to intervene, Harry pulls back, sucking in a great shuddering breath as his head comes to a rest on her shoulder.

He just rests there, his hand still splayed under her shirt, but eyes closed as Ginny starts to talk to him again, her fingers stroking his hair.

“Impressive.”

Bill turns to see Head Auror Robards standing behind him. “What?”

He nods towards Ginny and Harry. “This is one of the strongest love potions I’ve ever seen. He’s holding it together rather well considering. Or…”

“Or?”

He shrugs, looking almost annoyed. “He really is that stupidly gone for her.”

“True, abiding love,” the Healer says he arrives. “Better than a bezoar.”

“I’d say that’s revolting if it didn’t seem to be working,” Bill says, noting the way Harry almost looks peaceful now.

“Did you bring an antidote?” Ginny asks Robards.

He shakes his head. “It’s going to take a while to create one. They have to break down whatever was in that thing to start with. Certainly wasn’t standard. Had a few extra features.”

“Such as?” Bill asks.

“Stamina. Aggression. But also a strange sort of power booster.” He shakes his head.

“I suppose that explains the violence at the pub and the stunners not working for long,” Bill surmises.

Robards shrugs. “Possibly. It’s a bit of a mystery.”

Ginny grimaces. “And I suppose she isn’t talking.”

“No,” Robards admits.

Ginny’s expression is grim. “Just get me in a room with her. I can get you answers.”

“Gin,” Bill says, thinking it’s probably not a great idea to threaten violence against someone in front of an auror.

But Robards just laughs. “Trust me, if I didn’t think you were the only thing keeping Potter calm, I’d let you.”

As it is, Ginny has to talk Harry down a few more times over the next hour, one time through a very thorough snog Bill would rather not have ever seen.

By the time the antidote is ready, everyone else has returned sober and suffering various levels of agony. They’ve stuffed the room full of chairs and benches--Percy, Charlie, and George slumped together on one against the wall. Ron, having finally lost any amusement over Harry’s predicament, sits in a chair next to Hermione, his head lowered against her shoulder. 

“I thought we were done with hospital vigils,” Ron mumbles miserably.

“You’re not quite that stupid, love,” Hermione says, pressing a kiss to his head.

Bill snorts. Becoming an auror wasn’t exactly living the quiet life they always profess to want.

The wait seems endless, Bill staring unseeing at the various obnoxious posters on the exam room walls. _Avoid inhibiting your recovery with unnecessary fatigue! ASK, DON'T CAST_. 

He tears his eyes away as the healer walks in with a tray, an array of potion flasks clinking faintly together on it.

“What’s that?” Harry asks, eyes sluggishly opening.

“Just something to make you feel better,” Ginny says, brushing her fingers across his forehead as she sits up.

The healer sets the tray down next to the bed, setting the potions all in a careful line. “Ready?”

“No,” Harry says, brow furrowing.

“Harry?” Ginny asks, touching his cheek.

He brushes her away. “I don’t want it.” 

“It’s not going to hurt you,” she promises.

“No. Get it away from me. I don’t want it!” He surges up against the restraints—like somehow the sight of the potions is overriding whatever control he might have had over the effects of the love potion.

Ginny is trying to talk to him, to touch him, but Harry is having none of it, fighting the restraints with renewed vigor, nearly tumbling her to the floor.

Bill pulls her away as multiple guards swarm in to hold Harry down.

“You can’t keep me here!” Harry yells, the tray starting to rattle ominously. “I need to go back. I have to find her. You fucking bastards!” The bed rocks dangerously as he lurches to the side.

“Harry, calm down,” Ginny says, but Harry is clearly beyond hearing her.

“Do it!” the healer shouts. “Stun him again!”

In a flash of red light, Harry slumps back against the bed. He isn’t completely out though, which is even more horrifying somehow.

Still, Harry can only listlessly struggle as the healer pours the potions into his mouth, plugging his nose until he’s forced to swallow if he wants to breathe.

Ron wraps an arm around Ginny, both looking completely horrified as they watch.

After endless moments, they finally get all of the potions into him, Harry passing out at long last.

“Is that it?” Ginny asks. “Is it done?”

Robards leans over Harry. “Hey, Potter,” he says, slapping his cheeks a bit to rouse him. “Care to tell me about Marlena?”

Harry frowns, his eyes not completely open. “Who?”

Dunlap taps his cheek again. “You know, the witch? Blond? Really attractive? Waiting for you at the pub?”

He shakes his head. “Thas non-sess,” he slurs, his head lolling to the side. He catches sight of Ginny, a goofy smile spreading over his face. “Gin.”

“Hey,” she says, giving him a shaky smile.

“Had too much to drink,” Harry mumbles, eyes closing.

She moves closer, taking his hand. Harry doesn’t stir. She looks up at Robards, tugging at the restraints. “Are these still necessary?”

He glances at the healer in question.

“I’d feel better leaving them for a while longer, just to make sure the antidote has worked.”

Harry lets out a soft snore.

“It doesn’t seem he’ll notice,” Bill says.

Ginny drags a chair up next to the bed so she can continue to hold Harry’s hand.

Bill crosses over to his brothers. “Why don’t the rest of you head on home. I’ll stay with Ginny. Make sure he doesn’t start cursing people again.” He’s not even going to bother trying to get her to go home. 

“You’re sure?” Percy asks, even though he looks like he’s dead on his feet.

“Yeah,” Bill says. “Go home before you fall over. That goes for all of you.”

Ron nods. “He’ll probably be embarrassed enough when he wakes up without having to deal with all of us anyway.”

“We can mortify him tomorrow,” George concedes.

It’s a testament to how wrecked they all are that there isn’t any further argument, each of them saying goodnight to Ginny before heading out.

“I’ll make sure these two get home alright,” Charlie says, steering George and Percy out the door.

Bill finds another chair, settling in on Harry’s other side. He dozes off, content that if shit hits the fan again, it will be loud enough to rouse him.

“He’s waking,” Ginny says much later, Bill jerking awake.

By the time Bill goes out into the hall and returns with a healer, Harry still hasn’t opened his eyes. But his breathing and body posture say he’s probably faking unconsciousness. Though whether that’s to catch them off guard so he can attack them all again, or just as a way to avoid talking about anything, Bill isn’t sure.

“Mr. Potter,” the healer says.

Harry lets out a sigh, finally opening his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” the healer asks.

“Spectacular,” he says, voice fairly dripping with sarcasm.

Ginny lets out a breath as if in relief, and Bill supposes that’s because ‘sarcastic little shit’ is much more in character for Harry than hexing everything in sight.

“Who’s that?” the healer asks, pointing in their direction.

Harry’s head very reluctantly turns towards them, his eyes not meeting their faces. “Ginny. And Bill.”

“And who are they?”

Harry sighs, closing his eyes. “My girlfriend. And her brother,” he mumbles.

The healer nods, apparently appeased. “Feeling more yourself?”

His jaw tightens, nodding his head.

“No urges to curse anyone?”

“Just one person in particular,” he says, a flush of red working its way up his neck. Bill isn’t sure if that is embarrassment or anger. 

The healer lets out a soft huff of amusement. “Does that person happen to be in this room?”

Harry’s eyes flick in their direction again. “No.”

“Well, then,” the healer says. “I think we may be in the clear.”

Ginny immediately steps closer. “Does that mean we can take these off now?” she asks, tugging at the restraints.

The healer gives her a kindly smile. “I don’t see why not.” 

Not quite so ready to forget what Harry’s been like, Bill pulls his wand out just in case Harry isn’t quite as cured as he seems. Ginny glances over at him, but doesn’t protest.

With a wave of the healer’s wand, the restraints loosen and drop to the bed.

Ginny pushes them out of the way, letting them fall to the floor with a clunk. “As fun as those might be to play with some other day…”

“Christ, Ginny,” Bill complains.

She ignores him, instead addressing Harry who still seems to be having a hard time looking at either of them. “What do you remember?”

“All of it,” he says, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, Ginny, I’m so sorry.”

She touches his arm. “None of that was your fault,” she says, voice fierce as if daring him to argue with her.

He shakes his head, clearly not buying that.

“Harry,” she says, fingers catching his chin and lifting his face up, like she wants to make sure he’s really paying attention. “That wasn’t you.”

He looks miserably up at her. “What I said to you…”

She smiles, fingers sliding along his jaw. “I think we can all agree there were worst things you did.” She jerks her head towards Bill.

Harry looks in his direction. “Bill,” he says. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Bill deserves a good punching every now and again,” Ginny says, rather flippantly considering it’s his bloody face.

Still, Bill doesn’t really want to make Harry feel any worse than he clearly already does. “You should work on your punch, mate. It was pathetic really. Could barely feel it.”

Harry ignores the teasing. “What about Charlie? Is he okay? Ron?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Ginny says soothingly.

Harry looks at Bill as if he doesn’t trust her to be honest. “She’s right. The worst they’re all gonna be left with is a hangover.”

Harry groans, leaning back against the pillows and covering his face. 

Still standing next to the bed, Ginny shifts, like she’s fighting the urge to crawl back into the bed with him but isn’t sure he’ll want that, having spent a large portion of the night with people manipulating and manhandling him. As if sensing it, Harry reaches an arm out to her, pulling her up into his side. She settles against him, wrapping him in a firm hug.

“I really hate having people in my head,” Harry mumbles.

Ginny nods against his chest. “Yeah.”

Harry’s quiet for a long while, and Bill’s just starting to plan his exit when he speaks again, a barely audible mumble. “To be clear, I don’t want a stag night.”

Bill’s eyebrows lift, this being the first he’s heard of any plans of Ginny and Harry getting married. He looks over at Ginny to see if Harry’s somehow spilled the beans of their secret engagement in his misery, but she looks just as surprised.

“Oh,” Ginny says after a moment. “Are you getting married?”

Harry’s body stills, a grimace creasing his face. Like he wasn’t talking hypothetically and just accidentally proposed to his girlfriend in a moment of crippling wretchedness.

Harry cracks one eye open to peer over at her. “I was, uh, kind of hoping to.”

Bill bites back a groan, finding himself trapped on the wrong side of the room but not particularly wanting to draw attention to himself. Meaning he is just stuck standing there trying to pretend this isn’t happening right in front of him. How the fuck is this his life?

“You don’t sound all that certain,” Ginny says.

It occurs to Bill that he might have to protect Harry from Ginny and not the other way around. Fleur would have murdered him if he’d done something like this. He’d always known that was the one thing he could not fuck up.

Harry’s fingers pluck nervously at the covers. “Still working up the nerve to ask, I suppose.”

“They must be terrifying, this potential spouse.”

Harry nods, not seeming to realize that calling your girlfriend terrifying is rarely a good idea. “She is.”

Unfathomably, Ginny’s lips twitch, even as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Not sure why you’d want to marry her then.”

Harry smiles, like this is finally an easy thing to answer. “Because she’s perfect.”

Bill’s eyes nearly roll out of his head at that, but neither Ginny nor Harry seem to even remember he exists. He wonders if he could apparate straight out of the room quietly enough that they wouldn’t notice. Are the rooms warded against that?

“I guess you’d better get a move on before someone else snatches her up,” Ginny says.

Harry shakes his head. “Nah. She’s not going anywhere.”

“No? Bit of an arrogant assumption.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, his eyes closing. “She promised. And she’s always here when I need her.”

Ginny lets out a sigh, looking down at him like she’s annoyed to find him as endearing as she does. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

He nods, apparently not put out by that.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I love you so bloody much.”

He nods again, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like _luckiest arsehole in the world_.

Bill thinks maybe he’s survived the worst of it when Ginny sits up and starts patting her hand down the side of Harry’s trousers.

Harry opens his eyes, frowning down at her. “What’re you—”

“Let’s have it,” she says, reaching across his body to get to his other leg.

“What?” he asks, batting her away and protecting his pocket.

“Give me my ring,” she demands.

Harry looks panicked enough that Bill realizes he probably actually has the sodding thing on him. “No. No way. I have to ask first. Properly. I am not fucking this up.”

She laughs. “Aren’t we past that?”

“I am not asking you on my sick bed after spending half the night convinced I loved someone else!”

“But it makes for such a great story,” Ginny says, clearly not deterred.

He catches her hands, holding them tightly. “I don’t want to steal Ron and Hermione’s thunder.”

“I hate to tell you this, but you’ve already rather tromped over his stag do.”

“All the more reason!”

“Come on, Potter, suck it up and marry me already.”

“No,” he says, pushing her away. “I’ve changed my mind.”

Ginny doesn’t seem put off. “Too late. No backsies.”

“What is this, primary school?”

“You love me so much a love potion didn’t work,” she crows. 

“There was no love potion,” Harry replies, totally deadpan. “I was just trying to have an affair.” 

Ginny lets out a laugh, hands pressing to his chest. “That’s no way to talk to your wife, Potter.”

He gives her what is probably his goofiest, soppiest smile yet. “My wife,” he says, voice stupidly reverent.

“Christ,” Bill says, not able to handle one more moment of this ridiculousness. “Would you please at least let me escape first? Watching this is worse than being punched.”

“Why are you even still here?” Ginny asks, shooing him across the room. “Not a word about this until after Ron’s wedding!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, flapping a hand at her. “You’re on your own if Harry relapses. I’m taking my bruises and going home.”

“I’m his own personal bezoar,” Ginny calls out after him, voice almost sing-song as Harry groans in complaint.

Bill shuts the door behind him as Ginny climbs onto Harry and starts kissing him, Harry more than enthusiastically returning the favor—all misery and embarrassment apparently forgotten.

Definitely cured then, he assumes with a grimace, more than content that Harry isn’t going to hurt Ginny. Besides, with another stag night clearly on the horizon, he’s going to need all the bloody sleep he can get.

.fin.


End file.
